Breathing Dust
by SerialImagination
Summary: So now the story begins. The outside world, the world of the ninja, and its new world waiting just behind it, the nomad world. How will this Nomad worl effect the ninja world? Read and you will know.
1. Chapter 1

The wind outside was blustery as usual, carrying its lover, the sand, within it in a romantic and swirling dance, threatening anyone who dared interrupt such a beautiful dance. This was the night where all things slept calmly in their beds, hoping the wind would soothe itself soon. The stars and the moon that wished so badly to be praised and loved by the eyes of whoever whished to watch, were hidden behind the veil that the sand set across it. It had become a night of hatred for all things. It was night of death. All power held in the malice of nature, and this village that sat defiantly within its deadly grip.

It was called the sand village, and rightly named so. It was the domain of many furious and strong ninja, the dwelling of rich feudal lords, and the home of its people within. And on this night, against the howls of the wind, cried the screams of new life on night of death. A mother lay in her hospital bed, pained with the recurrent contractions of the birth that lay just in her future. Fever burned at her body and muscles spasmed violently at her abdomen. Her black hair was strewn about and glued to her body that was drenched in sweat.

"AHHHHHHHH!"

"Mrs. Asudo! Please calm down!"

"Please! You're going to hurt the baby if you don't stop and give birth now!"

All of the nurses and doctors in the room stood, panicking, and hoping for a way to make her stop holding the baby in and give birth. If not she could kill it. It would die of lack of oxygen if she continued like this. She had been forcing herself into it for over an hour now.

"NO!" She screamed out defiantly to the persistent people. _I promised him he would watch his daughter be born! I must hold on, just hold on. Hold on! _

"Move! MOVE!"

The command was directed at the people in his way, all of them rushing around because of the woman who refused to give birth. He was late and he knew it. And he hated himself for it almost. His child was being born and he was late. If only Kazekage-sama hadn't ordered him out on such a long mission. If only he weren't a ninja to begin with he would have never of been late.

"Tadayuri!" he yelled desperately searching for his wife.

"SAGI!!!" Came the tormented and pained reply.

It came from ahead. Two doors or so. He ran as fast as he could force him to until he found the room that had been crowded by an enormous amount of staff, begging and pleading for the patient to give birth. He pushed and squeezed forcefully and made his way to the bed. He almost wanted to die when he saw how pained his wife was. She had been in labor for so long, he could tell. He reached out for her hand. She was burning alive.

"Tadayuri! I'm here," he said to her softly.

"The baby! Its coming!" yelled the doctor as he sat down before the woman to help direct her first child birth. "Push now!" He instructed.

Tadayuri mustered the strength she could and pushed with all she had. Her baby, her daughter, now she could come; now her father could see her, and he would love her, even if she was not a son. He would love her. She had promised, and she had struggled so hard for her baby, and for her husband. Yes, he would look past her baby's sex, and love her anyway.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" She screamed as the infant came forth from her birth canal, and was silent.

The doctor worked with quick hands to separate the umbilical form the baby and mother. There was something wrong with the baby and that was more than to be expected after what the mother had done.

"Tadayuri!!!! Tadayuri! TADAYURI WAKE UP!" Suddenly, like a swarm of bees the room became even more of a hell like swirl of chaos as the staff began to try and revive the almost dead Tadayuri, while at the same time another team of staff worked to preserve the life of the baby.

_My baby… please… love my baby. _

"Where is she?! Where is Tadayuri?!" demanded Sagi as the doctors came out of the room where they had taken her too.

As soon as the baby had passed the doctors took it away, and Tadayuri passed out. He had become so enraged that several other ninja's were asked to restrain him from destroying the hospital. One of the ninja's stood and set out his arm as a reminder not to harm the doctors, and that he was there to stop him should the need arise.

"Tadayuri is fine. She is extremely over exerted. Her chakra dropped to dangerous level. We think what she did was she gave an enormous amount to the baby in order to keep it alive. That connection was severed when we cut the umbilical cord. All she needs is rest, but she is in a very delicate condition and can have no visitors until we are sure that her chakra has stabilized and been rehabilitated," the doctor explained in a monotone voice that helped to ease Sagi's anger.

Sagi sighed with relief. He had not lost his wife. He had not lost the love of his life. Perhaps this deadly night was being merciful to him.

"And the baby? Is it okay?"

"Yes, she is fine. We were able to start her breathing and she's very healthy…"

"Thank you so much doctor I…"

But his joy was cut short as the doctor raised his hand and turned his face to stone as if he had bad news. Sagi's face dropped and turned white as the doctor took a deep breath before getting ready to tell him what was wrong. That breath seemed to last ages. He began to think that the doctor in his white smock was torturing him. In fact he was so wrapped up in himself, he hadn't even cared that the baby was a girl.

"…there is one thing though. On her back, she has a very large black bruise. We have tried everything, but it will not go away, in fact we believe it will be with her for the rest of her life. We just don't know what it really is right now, and whether or not it is a danger to her health."

Sagi swallowed the knot in his throat and stood silent for a moment. Now everything was coming to him in torrents of rage and pieces of thoughts that were only ragged bitts not fit to think through thoroughly. Tadayuri had suffered so much, for a lowly female and imperfect child. One that nearly stole her life. What was the point in keeping it then? His mind became full of dark thoughts then. But he masked his feelings, and put them underneath his thoughts for now, he would wait until he had the right moment.

"May I see my daughter?" He asked.

The doctor nodded and called a nurse to him, directing her to take Sagi to his baby.

He followed the nurse, no longer with an escort ninja, he had cooled his anger it seemed for now, along with the night and the hospital. Death seemed to have waned its terrible grip for the moment, it had decided it could not take any blood now, it had decided it would wait, and wait until it could, patiently and silently until its claws could ravish the souls of the land and living.

The nurse led him through a narrow white hallway into a room that had a long glass window in it. He could see the tiny baby girl lying in her tray of a bed, wrapped in a warm blanket and all clean from her birth. He could see the evidence of a birth mark around her eyes. The black lines were very prominent. If this child had been a son he would have made a good ninja, greater then his own father.

As he stepped into the warm atmosphere of the room the nurse went to the tray of a bed and carefully lifted the baby into his arms. She made typical baby sounds as she was passed around form one to another so lovingly. He held her with all intention of protecting her from any harm. But it only lasted for a second. This monster of a child had nearly killed her mother, and cost him the love of his life. He nearly wanted to dash out her brains right then, but the voice of the nurse called his thoughts away from his anger.

"Mr. Sagi sir, forgive me but I must take down all of the baby's information for the hospital records. All I need is a name for her sir. Do you have a name for her?"

"Yes, yes I do," he replied, a smile on his face.

"Oh! Well then! May I have it?" The nurse asked happily getting her pen ready to write.

"Yes you may…" he paused, a twisted smile on his face," her name is Asudo, Satsu."

The nurse froze and dropped her pen. He had chosen such a horrid name to bestow on the girl.

"Sir I…"

"Her name is Satsu. Kill. Her name is Kill. Satsu," he said as he walked out of the room with is daughter in his arms.

No one tried to stop him, no one even noticed as he walked by. Because he had used an illusionary jutsu, so to everyone else, it seemed that he was not even walking past their bodies. It felt good to be in control of everyone else's senses. It felt good to know that no one would ever know that he had taken the baby at all. It was that indescribable pleasure that he got form this sort of thing. That only a truly disgusting man could gain pleasure form at all. And he was, he was truly detestable.

Under his mask of kindness and good heartedness was deeply sickening man who loved being the puppeteer, and making the story run his way. He was even more the puppeteer as he controlled the fate of this young and new born child in his hands as he walked, and it empowered even more, as he stepped outside into the calm night that had just earlier been so vicious and tormenting to him. A fresh coat of sand layered thick over everything gave him an advantage. It would be easier to cover his tracks now.

He walked slowly as he headed towards the edge of the village, the small and tiny baby squirming in his arms as if she could feel and understand his murderous intent. He looked down angrily at the baby. The squished and fat looking face seemed angry at him back. He liked this baby; it reminded him so much of himself even at a young age. But still, this baby was female, she could not become an heir to his family, she was useless, and what was even worse. She was almost the cause of his beloved wife's death. However, what topped the whole list was that she wasn't even a perfect baby; he might have consented to keeping if she was… but she wasn't.

It intrigued him and his dark thoughts to know what exactly this black mark looked like. So he slowly began to unravel the soft protection of the baby blanket to reveal her fresh skin to the air. As soon as the blanket was removed and she was uncovered except for her diaper and beanie, he turned her over to get a look for himself. He stopped walking as soon as his eyes hit it. It covered nearly all of her back except a small portion at the base of her neck. But that was not what was most disturbing.

The mark seemed to be flowing, like a constant river of black ink. It was frightening to see it. Touching it was out of the question he didn't want to know what would happen if he did. He wouldn't be surprised if it killed him. Sagi bent down and grabbed at a handful of sand. As he rose he poured the sand on the mark. It absorbed the sand violently and black smoke rose from it. The smell of burning rock and earth rose in it… but the mark had not harmed any of the doctors or the blanket.

It was conscious of itself. He could not believe it. It knew when a threat was present, and it would kill any threat that touched it blindly. A smirk grew across his face. This baby, even if it was a lowly murderous thing… would live. He knew it, even if he tried to kill it. Sagi was a sick and terrible man, but he was by no circumstances a stupid one.

"Hm… a demon that doesn't even know it is one. You will grow up a terrible thing, tormented by what you are… and one day you will find out where you came from and kill me. I know you will. I hope you do. By then ill get to see exactly what's inside you. I will probably be old or maybe even dead by then. Satsu… you are truly my daughter," he laughed cynically as the said it.

After all, no one could hear him, so why not? Why not tell the whole world that he was cruel and he wanted to see this murderous child suffer so that she too would become cruel like him? The question ran through his devious mind so many times he began to form his own answer to it. _Because cruelty is what makes the Earth turn. One evil deed made a good one come too. Cruelty makes the Earth turn … so why not make it spin a few extra times to make sure it was safe. _Sagi looked up at where he was.

The edge of the village. Yes, he would leave this baby on the outside of it, free for the taking. The mark would take care of the baby. He knew that much. It would make sure the baby lived and grew up to kill all of its threats. As he made his way he wrapped the blanket back around the baby. It would be fine from here on. He would be fine. He would go back to the hospital and dispel the illusionary jutsu and then become angry and mad that his baby was missing. No one would ever know what he had done to Satsu.

"I will see you again Satsu, don't forget that I am your father, and I am the one who did this to you. Good bye for know, my daughter," he said gently, and then kissed her forehead and laid her down on the ground.

* * *

The wind picked up again as he turned his back and walked away. It asked its lover the sand to dance with it again and they took up their deadly steps as the hid away any evidence that Sagi had ever been there with the baby Satsu. The moon and the stars that had held everyone's gaze was now veiled once again in the lover's shadow, and could offer no comfort to Satsu. She was now all alone. Only one friend to protect her. Her black bruise that waited and waited, for kind hands to release its burden of protecting her.

The forest was quite now, except for he rustling of the leaves and the calls of the animal life all abut them. They were safe here, for the time being. This would be their winter home for now, where the Thread Tribes were too far to reach them, and the Wood Tribes were close enough to send help should the need arise. The Ink tribes had good ties with the Wood, but with the Thread, it seemed to be a bloody warfare that never ended, and each year, there were less and less ninja to protect them. Little by little the threat of the Thread was growing. And soon their numbers would be too great to stop them.

The forest held little solace for all of its peace. This winter dwelling would only be temporary, and then the tribe would be forced to move again for need of food, to the open valley where the Thread could attack at will. It was like a buffet and the Thread could have all they could eat. And right now everyone hoped their bellies were full for now. This would be the time to let the food digest, and the time to sleep. While the giant slept, the Ink would gather up its strength.

One Ink ninja was going to make sure her people would grow strong. Her name was Ukimae, and she was the protector of the secret of the Ink Tribes that the Thread wanted so badly. She was the hopes of all of her people, though she herself did not lead them, she was what held then together. Now as the winter winds blew softly, Ukimae sat in the tree tops, grateful for the evergreen needles that hid her so well. From here she could see so well, and at the same time could not be seen.

With winter Ukimae had put her over coat on. It didn't seem as if it would be so cold for a place where the sun shown everyday, but nonetheless the air was cold enough for breath to seem as smoke. All was quite. She hoped it would remain that way. Ukimae did not want to admit it, but she was tired and she was going to lose everything if she wasn't allowed to rest and regain her strength. Constant use of her chakra throughout the entire journey to this place had wiped her clean of anything she had left.

"Ukimae-sama," called a voice from down bellow.

Ukimae looked down to see her apprentice Genji. He was a strong boy and he had the potential to take on her responsibility of guarding the True Ink, the heart of the Ink Tribes, one day.

"Genji… what are you doing here? You should be with the others at camp?' she said, jumping down from her place in the trees.

"U-ki-mae-sama…the camp…"

"GENJI!"

Genji fell to the ground, Ukimae understood now why he was so choppy in his movements… and why he had come to her. Now as he lay, she could see a shuriken buried deeply into his back… no doubt it had broken through the ribs and into the lungs or heart. It was amazing he had even gotten this far before dying, but in his last breath she hoped that Genji had saved the Ink people. She didn't have to check if he was dead, she could tell he had simply by looking at him, but she had no time for remorse now. Now her people needed her most. Genji had done his job, and not it was time for her to do her own.

"AHHHHHHHH!"

"UKIMAE!!! HELP US!!!"

"KILL THEM ALL! LET NO ONE LIVE!!!"

The cries rumbled through the forest and she had no choice. She formed the seals and transported herself to the camp. It was chaos. People running everywhere from what looked like more than 200 Thread tribe warriors and ninja combined. She threw her coat to the ground and opened her body to the bracing cold. It would fuel her and keep her numb as well. So she could keep fighting even if she was injured.

Ten paper talismans flew from her hands, and on each she rapidly wrote down the name of the jutsu she was going to make. It was amazing to watch a calligrapher put out her talismans in such a rapid fire speed. Within seconds the talismans were speeding to each end of the camp.

"Enemy of the Ink Extraction no Jutsu!" She yelled.

Suddenly every Thread warrior was thrown away from the camp and just outside of it. Once it was clear she began to walk towards the front of the camp where her hungry enemies awaited her. They where foolish to think the true Ink would serve them. Once the true Ink left the hands of an Ink Tribe people… all of its power dies. They had tried to explain this before, but the Thread where too unwilling to listen and thought them to be lying.

Ukimae looked at everyone cowering around her. The bodies of what little ninja they had were dead, either by loss of too much chakra, or a deadly weapon had been plunged into them. There were only three left. Three ninja, the most powerful and respected warriors of any nomadic tribe, it was disgraceful. Still she could not blame them for being so weak. They had been fighting hard for so long. She drew out three more talismans on each one of them was a portion of her chakra.

Ukimae handed one to each of them. Each of them stared at her as soon as they read the talismans.

"Ukimae-sama…but this…" one of them began, but Ukimae raised her hand as a motion for his silence.

She wasn't in the mood for protest.

"Even I may fail. I want you to take my chakra, and use it. The people will fall to you after me," she said, and then turned to leave without any other words.

"Ukimae-sama," the ninja whispered as she walked. He noticed the talisman began to glow and he could feel the chakra go into his body.

The other two ninja came to his side and watched as Ukimae walked off to the front of the camp to face her enemy. Or in this case, enemies. Each of them ten times as angry as before for being so contained for so long. But it would be over soon, their detainment… the trap didn't last very long. She had never been forced to use this jutsu in her entire life, she had hoped for many reasons that she never would have to… but the occasion seemed to call for more than she wanted.

As she came into view all of the faces twisted into dark and sinister grimaces that held no heart for her beauty. Nor for her bravery and last standing strength as she walked towards them. They stood there like dogs, foaming at the mouth and growling hungrily for the taste of blood, the rush of victory. Lately it had become addicting to the Thread tribes. The knowledge that they had been able to push the Ink this far into the valley boosted their egos all to well.

"Kage bunshin no jutsu!" Ukimae cried as she formed the seals forcefully.

Immediately, 99 replications of herself appeared. It would mean two for everyone of her. The odds were fair considering her skill versus their own. Even so… she was weak, and they would all be weak so it would be harder.

"You can't hide from us Ukimae of the Ink. We know you are weak!" yelled one of the men.

From the looks of him he was obviously the leader of the entire attack. He warriors dress was more delicately woven than any of the other Thread Tribe warriors. And the simple ring on his back was a symbol of his family. He was a nobleman of the tribe. Now that she had thought about it she knew who he was. He was the current Prince of the main Thread Tribe. He was going to be the next king. If she could kill him the Thread would become weak, he was the only thread heir. She had no choice… the prince would have to die.

"I am the guardian of the True Ink… you will not get by me this night… or any night for as long as I live!" Was her defiant reply.

"You heard Ukimae-sama! Get everyone out of here!" The ninja yelled at the other two.

Koriko was not the type of man to disobey his orders… and if Ukimae-sama wanted them to guard their people he would follow her will as best he could. That was all he could give. She had already given him a portion of her chakra… and the other two as well, that meant she couldn't have very much left for herself. In his heart he had to admit that he would not have the heart to face 200 Thread enemies alone like she did. Ukimae-sama was one of a kind. She knew things and did things that know one else would dare do.

One man stood in protest to the orders of the three ninja. He was an elderly man with a beard that was so long he had braided it to keep it from tangling as it fell down to his knees. On his face where several tattoos to show his rank and title. He was the leader of the Ink Tribes. The Grand Master Calligrapher. No other brush but Ukimae's could match his own skill. This was a thing to be proud of. He showed it as he stood.

"Grand Master Calligrapher! You must go with the people… they will need your guidance in this time the most," said Koriko, his head bowed in respect as he spoke to the man.

"Koriko…I am the leader of this tribe, of all Ink peoples. You will not order me in any way. I am going to watch the last stand of Ukimae. Because it will be my duty to record her last night in this world," he said grimly as he walked past Koriko and the two other ninja.

There was a look of shock mixed with sadness on Koriko's face as the Grand Master walked past them and forward to the fight. _How could he say that this was Ukimae-sama's last night in this world? How could he have so little faith in her? _He thought as he watched the old man disappear.

"Koriko, we must get the people away from here as quickly as possible," said on the other ninja.

Koriko took one last look at the shambled camp. He would miss her. She was a good teacher… and a wonderful woman whom he had hoped to marry. That would never happen now. If the Grand Master had said it…. It was without any doubt true. Ukimae-sama would die tonight…. and she would die protecting her people. Koriko prayed that she would win though. For all she had done for this tribe he wished the heavens would smile on her with its graces on her in this moment, and give her the strength to fight.

As he sat in the trees and watched… Ukimae struggled. One by one her replications were being killed and poofing away like the smoke from a fire; it was there and gone in a moment. Luckily for her they at least took one of her enemies with them before they died. She had never known the thread to be as ruthless as this. Something had changed in them this night that wasn't there before. Their eyes seemed red with fury when she looked into them. It wasn't human to have red eyes.

But finally she was all that was left… and she had barely enough chakra to breath. There was nothing left in her but she knew she still had to fight. Her duty was not done yet. And as she stood in the middle of 100 Thread warriors and ninjas… one last thought came to her mind. The last resort she and no other guardian had ever had to use before now. The True Ink that was hanging from her belt.

It looked only to be a simple wood Ink pot, but if one looked closely they would see the kanji for "Poison" clearly printed by the first Grand Master Calligrapher. It was he who had put so much chakra into the ink that it became aware of its self and took on an intoxicating state. It was the very life source of the Ink people… and the death of everything. If touched or absorbed through the skin or taken into the body in some way it would mean certain death. It was even able to replenish itself in the Ink pot if it ever ran out.

But for an Ink people…. It would grant an enormous amount of chakra to that person if drank for a short while… and in return… that person would give its blood and life to the True Ink. It was a deadly and complex idol… but because of this it had to be protected as well as other had to be protected from it and it deadly ways. There was no other way to go about and that was why there where Ninja like Ukimae who where born and trained to be its protector and with it they became the pillar of the Ink Tribes.

_Ink… grant me your power to protect your people. Give me your chakra to give my people life and a future. Please do as I ask… and I will become your slave forever more. _

The old man sat stunned as he watched Ukimae bring the Ink Pot to her lips and drink from it. Almost at once he could see the chakra glowing from her body… waiting to be used to kill. As if she were the plague the men backed away from her. An imaginary hook seemed to pick her up from the collar of her mini kimono top. Suddenly her face rose to meet them as well. She looked as if the devil himself had taken her body over.

Her eyes were completely black as if the ink had filled her body. And it made it all the more frightening to look at her now. The dull black chakra that glowed from her body was menacing with rage… everyone there could feel it. Even the Earth seemed unsteady under her feet out of discomfort.

"My people will not suffer any longer. I WILL KILL YOU ALL!!!" She yelled.

As she spoke the black Ink spilled from the corners of her mouth. The Grand Master knew now… what she had done. She had given her soul to the True Ink… it had mixed with her blood, which was why it spilled from her mouth, and it seemed her tears as well were black. His own tears welled and fell from his eyes down his aged face and into his braided beard. She had given her soul to the True Ink to save her people… she was going to die because she loved her people. They would idolize her forever… her name would hold a great ledged within the Ink Tribes. Even if she would have no rest in heavens… they would shine for her sacrifice; they would honor her deed forever.

However… there would be a great sorrow in the people's hearts when it came time for her to take her last breath. For months they had relied on her strength for hope. The entire Ink race had followed her rather than the Grand Master himself, because he himself admitted he had no hope left. Now as he watched he felt guilty for not having as much courage as she did. As she killed one man and then another and another continuously he sat and waited for her to die so he could tell her story, how useless he seemed to be, but he knew if he went to fight, he would die as well.

"There's no one left now except me Ukimae," said a gruff and tired man as he stood proudly before her.

The Grand Master recognized him as the soon to be Weaving King for the Thread tribes. He was the only son. There was no doubt in his mind… that this prince would die; Ukimae would not allow him to return. She just stood for a moment, catching her breath. Blood had doused her from head to toe, she had no mercy for those mean, and had ripped out as many hearts as she could with her own hands.

"You will die Prince of the Thread, and you will leave your people weak and it will free my people from you menacing weavers! The Ink will flourish with your death! Be happy in that knowledge!" she yelled as she made her way to him.

He was waiting, expecting any move she could possibly make. But he was not expecting her to disappear. He froze with fear when he could not see her and suddenly froze when he felt the slippery arms take hold of him from behind and bring a kunai knife to his throat. The cold steel itself seemed to want to suck all the life out of him without slitting his throat.

"My people will destroy yours," he said angrily as she moved the knife across his throat and he fell to the ground dead.

"Your people will not rise for anther 500 years, and when they do… I will return to protect the Ink again," she said as she looked up at the sky.

The sun had risen and light touches of pinks and oranges were etching through the sky.

_I am done. _

With that Ukimae fell to the ground and died. Her body covered in blood that was not her own, and still leaking the tears of black ink. The Grand Master bowed his head in a sign of respect and held his silence, as did the rest of the forest. The woman known as Ukimae, had shocked the whole world this day with her death, the Earth would never forget it.

Every Ink Tribe people stood there this night. All of them surrounding an altar that had been built especially for Ukimae, and her cremation. Not one child had been left at home, everyone mourned her death, and they would forever. She had died so valiantly in their minds. The Grand Master spared no details as he told the story of Ukimae's last night on Earth. Her last steps in the Hidden Valley. 2,000 heads bowed in respect as Koriko carried the torch that would send her ashes into the wind, up to the top of the stone alter.

The Grand Master had said that she would return. 500 years from now. He would be dead by then. As he took each step he remembered everyday that he grew up with her. He remembered when he and Ukimae fought each other because she said she could knock him out cold, and she did. Even the time when she kissed his cheek for bringing her a birthday present. Koriko was going to marry her. He couldn't now, he wouldn't now.

The wind blew harder as he brought the flaming torch closer to her body. It had taken 4 hours to rid her skin of the blood, and it was painful to dress her in white burial clothes. These were the words of her sister Uri to Koriko. The sun gleamed on the silver ring at the base of her braid. For a minute it blinded him and he froze for a second. Like she was telling him she wasn't really dead. Not alive in the flesh anymore but still around him in sprit. The feeling, however, could not last forever, and it faded and he continued his solemn walk. He wished something else would stop him. For a moment longer he could hold onto her, if only something more would stop him.

Time did not withhold its ravenous greed to continue on. Its current was too strong anyway even if it wanted to stop. So Koriko walked up to the body, and before he himself faltered and could refuse to, he threw the torch into the oil soaked wood and stood there as her watched Ukimae, burn away.

You promised Ukimae… don't forget that. My descendants will be waiting to be at your side. I promise that. Koriko thought as he watched her ashes begin to whisk about the air.

* * *

500 years later…………………

A young and newly made Master Calligrapher stood tall and bravely against the purple night sky. The sun had only just got down and was begging not to be put to bed so early. However, the mother night had finally won her way, and her son reluctantly trudged to bed. He enjoyed watching the sun. When it rose, and when it fell. It meant he was a day closer to finding Ukimae the Guardian of Hopes. It was his generation that she was foretold to come back in. Tonight would be exactly 500 years from her death. It was a night where all mother's to be, were hoping one thing. That Ukimae was their child.

He had only been Master Calligrapher for one week, and he could not have been happier of this. Every woman who was due to give birth was brought to stay with him in his luxurious dwelling. They would each be treated whit the greatest of respect, and handled with the most delicate hand. It had been the last Master Calligrapher's last wish, and yet, one thought always seemed to plague his young mind. What if, Ukimae where to be born outside of this tribe? What action should he take the? It would be nearly impossible to tell which baby was the one they needed in this world. After so many years, it had grown too big for even the nomads to handle, and that was only 500 years ago.

They had learned only little bitts of the outside world from Kiba-kun, and he had left nearly a few days ago. No one in the Ink tribe blamed him for leaving. He had lost his wife to a Thread raid. It would only make sense he would want to protect his son by taking him away. If the Thread had raided now, it would mean they were growing strong again, just as Ukimae had said they would. So many questions, so many thoughts all were crushing away his patience. He needed guidance. No Master Calligrapher would admit to being lost. However, Ukimae was a mystery, no one knew for sure, they had only assumed. Assumptions led to deadly faults. Death was not something the Ink Tribes could afford.

Though they had grown over the 500 years Ukimae had promised them, they had not strengthened too well. Less and less were taking on the Ninja way. Even through encouragement from Ninja's and Master Calligrapher's no one would be brave. Ukimae had most likely known this would happen, that's why she promised her return. Perhaps in her last moments, she had seen the future, since she spoke so clearly to the Thread Prince before she killed him. Everyone in the Ink Tribes knew her words; they had been passed on for ages since her death.

"_Your people will not rise for anther 500 years, and when they do… I will return to protect the Ink again." _

His brow narrowed into a grimace of determination. He would not fail. Ukimae would return, and he would do everything within his power to gain her back. The Ink people needed her. She knew that when she died, and so did each and every heart that lived and was born an Ink people. Ukimae was named the Guardian of Hopes after her death, and she still was after all these years. No one had found her courage and strength to guard their own. Perhaps that was why she was returning as well. To teach the Ink to be strong.

The flurry of his fine woven garments trailed behind him as he walked rigidly to the camp. Where better to get answers than from Ukimae herself. She had been dead for these years, but there was a rumor that when the people truly needed her, she would appear before them at her Alter where she had been burned. Even if it was in Wood territory, the Ink and Wood had an alliance that allowed the Ink to use their forest as their winter grounds, while the Wood gained the use of one calligrapher from the Ink to record and write down histories and important information for the Wood Tribes record's.

A calligrapher was something only the Ink had in the Hidden Valley of the Nomads. It was something all the other tribes wanted. The Thread wanted the use of their ink making skills for creating dyes for their fine fabrics, the people of the Clay for their brush skills to paint their pottery, the people of the Metal to be able to inscribe their works, the people of the Stone to color their Stone. Only the Wood has been able to even bring a calligrapher within their boundaries. Even then the calligrapher is special. They follow ways so that no Wood cannot steal the precious art that the Ink hold at the very center of their hearts.

Likewise the Wood were careful never to let the Ink calligrapher see their own precious wood working skills. This was the way of the artisan nomads, their arts were sacred, and almost their religion, in fact one could say it was. As the world grew, so did their skills, but as it began to grow too big the world demanded that the secrets of the artisan nomad's be revealed. So the Nomads fled into the Hidden Valley, and never returned. History kept them in small and lost fragment; the people of the world forgot them. They became a rare artifact.

The Nomad Tribes did not long for the outside world either, which was in very many ways a great thing for the tribes. It left them to be as they always were, their own people untouched and unscathed by any outsider. Above all they could keep their own art as precious as it always was. The only outsider anyone had ever come across in years was one drunk and mistaken ninja who went by the name of Kiba and eventually became part of the Ink by marriage.

The Master Calligrapher found himself quickly shoving off his expensive garments and shoving on some old and travel worn clothes. He was quick to find thought that he had been discovered in his intentions to leave. A flustered and breathless young woman by the name of Chiako bumbled in as he put on a light over coat that hung at his ankles. She was had been and advisor to the Master Calligrapher for the last ten years and was now serving him. She blew a long strand of loose brown hair out of her face as she stood tall and brushed herself off to face the Master Calligrapher.

"Zensho-sama!" She said demandingly.

"I don't answer to you Chiako," he replied, as he walked past her and out of his sleeping quarters into his office.

Chiako's brows furrowed out of frustration that he knew she was going to protest against his leaving. Even for a young Master he had been able to out do her several times during this week. Lately he seemed to be pushing for excellence due to the coming of Ukimae-sama, but there was no reason for him to be so hyped up. Three of the four women were in labor now which meant she would be here. This also meant he should be here as well so he himself could present Ukimae to the village. He was key to the entire ceremony and what if the Thread decided to attack as well?

"Zensho-sama, you cannot go now, the babies will be born any moment!" She protested to his actions.

"None of them are Ukimae," he said stiffly, as if he was not going to let anyone change his mind.

He wasn't. He was sure this time. Ukimae-sama was a great ninja, a goddess amongst flies and leeches. She was going to make it difficult for her people; she was going to make them prove their worth. She would be out of character to do otherwise. If the Tread attacked it would also be stupid, currently all of the Ink Tribes had gathered for the birth of Ukimae, their numbers were 20 to one now. Over all it would be a useless attack. His mind was in ten thousand places right now about where Ukimae could be. She would offer guidance though, she would offer sight.

"You can't be…" she began, but before she could finish he had already gone, a simple note left behind in his wake.

Her eyes read the delicate kanji carefully and huffed at its words.

_Ukimae-sama, she will not surrender so easily._

The Master Calligrapher set himself at top speed as he headed out into the plains, he would reach the winter grounds in half a day at his speed. Normally it took 3 days to get there, but he had been storing his chakra for a while now, and he could spend a little of it getting to the alter. He was a first among first. The only Master Calligrapher who had given up the life of a ninja, to serve his people. Therefore he knew how to use his chakra well. For nearly a month he had kept it in reserve as a safety net. Now he needed that safety net more than anything, he needed to move quickly.

The world sped past him, trying ferociously to stop him. High grass taller than he blocking his sight, rocks hidden in the path hoping to trip or throw any sorry traveler into the ground, bugs threatening to taste the blood of any living being. Normally this wouldn't have bothered him at all, but it seemed everything was deliberately trying to stop him. As if at anytime a Thread ambush would occur almost, with which the deepest of hopes he wished would not happen, not now of all times.

He would hate to waste any chakra on anything not applied to getting to the alter as fast as his legs could carry him without interruption. The sun had fallen 4 hours ago, he was close to the Alter, and he could feel it. The spiritual energy just seemed to ooze out of the forest where the winter grounds where. However nature would have its way, and he fell to the ground, a rock had grabbed at his foot and held it prisoner until his speed became his enemy and brought him down with a crushing force as his body hit the ground. As he looked at the ground level to his eyes, his mind grew blank and his eyes slowly became shut.

NO! I CANT FAIL! He rebelled to his body.

Who said you would? A commanding voice that rang a clear as a bell called out.

He froze. Who could be here in his mind? Who could but him? Had someone trapped him in a genjutsu?

I would never have come if I thought you were going to fail, the 8th great grandson of Koriko, the Guardian of the Ink after my death?

A woman appeared, dressed in a shortened Kimono that had been cut so that it only covered her chest. She wore the skirt of a calligrapher, a sign that she had mastered the art in great acknowledgement from her elders, held up by a belt of a similar but brighter color. At her waist, tied by a red belt, hung a wooden tube, red kanji imbedded into it. The word for poison. It was the true ink. Her long braids were held in at the ends by heavy silver rings. This was Ukimae. The woman who had been called The Guardian of Hopes. He felt his body bed underneath him and his back bend down so that his forehead touched the ground, bowing in proper respect to her.

Ukimae-sama, forgive me my rudeness, my doubt. He apologized, his voice barley forming proper tones to speak as he was in utter shock that she would come to him, and he hadn't even reached the alter yet.

You are so forgiven Zensho-sama. I give you my blessings; you were the only one who thought to challenge the assumptions. The only who thought to think as I did, as I do. For that I will tell you were my soul lies now. Be fore warned though. This child may have my soul, but her mind and body is her own. Do not treat her as if she were me; raise her as if she were her own. Though she may take to some of my habits and ways, it does not mean she will be my exact copy. Giver her, her own name.

Treat her as if you were her very father. She will live a cursed life always. Her stars are crossed too intricately to read, and her power will be great and excruciating to master. She is the future of both worlds. You will find her all alone, wrapped in the sand. That's where she was born, where she was cursed, in the Sand Village. Go there now Zensho-sama, now!

Zensho could feel his body, pulsing with a magnificent chakra he knew belonged to Ukimae herself. His eyes opened to the level ground. He looked down his body to see the thing that had caught his foot, only to find it was a large and heavy silver ring that had been caught on a rock. The nostalgia of the entire experience came flooding into his head, like a drug it numbed everything in reality and made dreaming almost believable. The ground seemed to be moving, pulling him forward as he slowly rose until he was on all fours, and struggling to reach just his feet.

As if the weight of the world had suddenly been placed on his shoulders he forced himself up, and when he finally stood his mind became tunneled.

RUN!

His feet rose and fell, rose and fell in a fluid pattern that propelled him steadily faster and faster. Momentum was building, inertia was growing, and he couldn't trust his human eyes anymore, they couldn't see past the blur of the world around him, all swirling like a warped piece of lava rock. Its twists and turns seemed like a delicately woven pattern of color that was mesmerizing. He didn't even quite know where he was going, were he was turning, but his feet seemed to just keep pushing, one after the other. They seemed to know.

His breath seemed to just stream into him and flow out in a circular motion, all at once, in through the mouth and out through the nose. One thing he could do, one thing he could know, was what he could feel. The earth turning soft under his feet, the hills became liquid like almost. The desert, he had found his way into the desert. The Sand Village, he could see it. In the dark, it seemed as if the stone walls themselves were out to smash and kill whatever lay outside of it, keeping what was within like a precious treasure, well guarded and prioritized.

And then, he began to slow down. Till he was walking, breathing, and seeing. As he grew closer he could hear it. The cries of a baby, his ears reacted to it, following it precisely, afraid to do anything other than achieve perfection in finding her. The world seemed to get smaller at this moment, as the cries grew sharper, louder, and more desperate. It seemed almost like time had stopped as he wandered in the sands until he could see it. A small bundle, squirming in the sands.

He slowly drooped to his knees, raising the baby into his arms, looking at her face with a simple need growing inside him. He felt pride, as if this really was his baby, his child. This was his daughter. Suddenly he felt as if he had been to rough in picking her up. He softly let his large fingers graze her newly born flesh. It was so soft and warm, like it wasn't even there. Her crying seemed to stop the moment he began to hold her. The pain of being torn away from her warm and comfortable home within her mother seemed trivial now.

Zensho watched with careful eyes as the baby opened her own. He saw the black lines rimming her eye lids; he would have to cover those. He knew no one would accept it. Blue eyes, clearer than the sky, he contrasted them by pulling out a small tube and brush, and with careful and masterful hands he stained her skin red, covering the black lines with a thick red line that ran across her face like a mask. Rising to stand he then whimsically turned his back to the monstrous wall, eating away at the outside to feed the inside, and trudged slowly back towards the valley. He couldn't run with her to protect, and he knew how to water and food in the desert. They would not be back at the camp for another month or so.

The thought of how long it would take, never crossed his mind though. He didn't care if he ever got back. He had his baby now, his daughter. However a thought did come to his mind. What would he name her? Ukimae-sama had told him to give her a name of her own. Zensho played with sounds and parts of Ukimae's name and finally, after many awkward changes he found one that flowed with ease.

"Your name is Ukimii," he said softly, and brushed her forehead with his lips lovingly. She looked up at him with her newborn eyes, and he could have sworn he saw Ukimae-sama smiling at him.

_Time to go home._


	2. Chapter 2

What had actually been one month became three months. Traveling with Ukimii had been more of a burden than he thought it would be. But it had been well worth it. When they had arrived the whole camp was welcoming them with open arms, praising him for bringing Ukimae back to them. They had found out that all of the women had given birth to ordinary children. Chiako was ashamed she had even doubted the Grand Master Calligrapher and out of respect she gave up her position as high advisor, and to discipline herself took up the way of the ninja. It was certainly a turn around, one that he had hoped for.

Now as he sat watching the darling three year old Ukimii playing with her friends in the sun, he could not help but think of an old story, of a beautiful maiden who had married an ugly blacksmith in order to show others that even though she was beautiful, she was not going to be what others expected, and show them that love came from the inside. That was why she married the blacksmith, whom loved her dearly as she did him. In a way that was how Ukimii was. She tamed the beast of peoples expectations and showed them, that regardless of who they thought she should be, she would be Ukimii, and follow her own ways.

She had grown well in these three years. Her hair was a beautiful shade of ebony black that shined like diamonds despite its color. She had seen the drawings and pictures of Ukimae-sama and had decided she also wanted braids like hers, and so now her own braids barely touched her shoulders. The red ink was still firmly stained into her skin, covering her sand birthmark, so that she and the villagers would have some piece of mind in knowing that she was one of their own. Not stolen away from another land. Zensho made sure that every morning he painted the ink onto her face. No one knew that the ink was painted on; they all thought it was a burn mark or scar of some sort.

He knew very well that if they knew she was from the outside world, that the camp would go into great distress. The outside world was something to be greatly feared, and only one outsider had ever been trusted. Kiba-kun. Now gone from them for a good 3 years; almost four years. In his heart he was sad to see his friend go, but he knew very well that the pain in Kiba-kun's heart was more than he could bear. The loss of a wife was something no one could really handle. So violently too. Of all things then to be left with an infant son who would grow to be the exact image of his mother was even more torture.

"Chichioya! Chichioya!" Cried a childlike voice.

It was Ukimii, calling for her father. Zensho smiled and opened his arms for her to run into. He had been sitting under the tree for a while now, at first trying to finish a poem, but ended up getting caught in watching his daughter and the other children play ninja. Once she was old enough he would let her begin her real training as a ninja; that was for sure. For now she was simply a child and need to enjoy that.

"Ukimii!" He responded happily as she threw herself into his arms and he lovingly closed them around her. "Ohf! You've gotten so big, Ukimii, I remember when I could pick you up so effortlessly, now I have to work hard just to hug you!' he said laughingly.

"Chichioya! Look!" she said, pulling away from him and pulling out a doll from inside her kimono.

It was beautifully dressed. He admired the craftsman ship delicately but noticed something. The cloth was woven too finely. It had come directly from the Thread Tribe. He wondered how she had gotten such a treasure without him knowing about it.

"It's very pretty, where did you get it?" he asked.

"Shhhhh! I can't tell you silly. Her name is Yume!" she declared, running off with the lovely doll into the tent where she and Zensho lived.

Though it was a tent it had several rooms, and was lavishly furnished. It was more a house than tent, but in the simplest form that was what it was. Her room had a very beautifully crafted doll house from the Wood Tribe, as a gift for her arrival. The Wood were peaceful with the ink, and they had known Ukimae as well, and they too wished for her return, they were very happy to make the gift for her third birthday when Zensho asked. He had seen her mountainous collection of dolls and decided he would give her all the more reason to continue playing with the dolls.

She was his daughter, and he loved her to the death, and as such he often spoiled her, but no matter how he did give, she was always sharing and giving her gifts away to her friends in the village whom she thought needed it more. Ukimii was only three, but she always had a kind heart no matter what. Ukimae had a kind heart, but it was not Ukimae who was making her give, it was Ukimii who gave and that was what made him love her all the more.

"Zensho-sama!" said a familiar voice. It was Chiako, adorned in her ninja outfit, and kneeling to the floor in respect beside him.

"Yes Chiako?" he replied, regaining his composure and lifting a brush from its ink pot, he had just thought of the next line in his poem.

"The scouts have reported a stranger in the valley, heading this way. He has a small child with him. Zensho-sama I think it may be that Kiba-kun has returned to us," she said, he tone changing from a reporting harshness, to a softer one of welcoming.

"Very well, I will be at the front of the camp. Tell no one of this, I'd rather it be a surprise," he said in a calm and collecting voice.

Chiako nodded in understanding and then took off to tell the scouts what their orders where. Suddenly the line he was going to write down vanished. He set the ink down and then stood up from his mat. It had been just a moment ago that he had been thinking of his friend, and now it seemed fate would play with him toady. He had not expected this.

"Ukimii!" he called gently.

One of the things he never had to do was raise his voice to her. She was an obedient and alert child who always looked for the sound of her father's voice.

"Coming Chichioya!" she replied, running with her new doll Yume firmly in her grip. He held out his hand for her too take it, and clasped it gently as he felt her small hand delicately come into contact with his own.

"Ukimii there is someone who I want you to meet. A very good friend of mine, and his son," he said smiling as he began his walk to the front of the village, Ukimii's face filled with curiosity and anxiousness to meet this new person, an old friend of her father.

As he walked he looked around at the camp, at the mothers with children filling their laps as the diligently worked on other things with endless perfection, at the young boys practicing their ink making, at the fathers, standing over their shoulders guiding them into the perfect ink. The camp was prospering and would soon be rich enough to strengthen it and support two camps. Of course the extra goods would go to trade with the other Tribe nations in order to keep fresh supplies on hand.

He laughed at himself softly. When he was younger and was just becoming a ninja they asked him to become the Grand Master Calligrapher the first time he laughed in their faces and told them they must be crazy because he had no sense for politics. Yet here he was considering the economics of the camp, and how long before they would need more one thing or another. At his age he was becoming one of the most masterful politicians ever. He was the first Grand Master to not have a gang of advisors at his side at all times.

In fact, he was the youngest Grand Master ever. Usually one had to be a good 50 or 60 years old, but at his age he had mastered calligraphy with a most skilled hand, become a full fledged ninja, and bring the one and only Ukimae back to the village in her new form. There was no doubt of him getting a place in the Ink History now. That had been true the day he accepted the request for him to become the Grand Master. He laughed at that too. History, it would eventually fade too. Just like they had faded from the history of the outside world, he would eventually be forgotten.

"Chichioya!" Ukimmi cried, tugging on the sleeve of his kimono.

Shaken from his thoughts he looked down at his three year old daughter who looked a bit miserable.

"What's wrong Ukimii?" he asked, bending down so that he was eyelevel with her.

"Chichioya, carry me please," she said, holding out her arms and wrapping them around his neck as he scooped her up into his arms.

That always seemed to be her favorite place, in her father's arms. He had become very used to it. After all, that was where she spent the first three months of her life. It was Just as Ukimae had said. She was his daughter, and hardly anything like Ukimae, whom others had described as solitary and quite. She was also highly independent, and even though she was kind, she was rough and edgy. This girl, Ukimii, was her opposite.

The one thing he did know that was Ukimae was the Black bruise on her back, which in the presence of danger became liquid and poisonous to the touch. It was filled with anger, and blood lust, and it had eyes only for Ukimii, and no one else. The manifestation of the True Ink that Ukimae had drank to defeat the Thread, and save her people. It had made itself known because it did not want to be discounted as the thing that gave her, her monstrous strength on that day.

In exchange for the entirety of her soul, the True Ink became her servant every 500 years after her death. In a way it seemed unfair, but in many ways it was a blessing. Even of the Ink was inside of Ukimii it was still poisonous to her so her back was always bandaged to keep her or anyone else from touching the bruise. No one wanted to think what it would be like to touch the True Ink. It had been described as a death so painful, that you could not even speak, and all you could do was feel the pain of the ink, ripping you away. They were surprised the True Ink had even spared Ukimae's body so that they could have a formal ceremony.

But no matter what they did the True Ink had stained her eyes Black, and her mouth. She smelled of Blood even when they scrubbed her clean, and no matter how they adorned her in beautiful clothes, they looked ragged as if she had just come from a battle. That had been the story. Everyone knew it by heart, and the children learned it, with al l of its details. Their history was one they treasured. The Story of Ukimae was one they would never forget.

Suddenly he was at the outskirts of the camp. The entire time he had been walking he had not noticed a thing, only what he was thinking, and the feeling of having his daughter in his arms. That was all he remembered from that walk. He could see him walking now. His faithful dog Akamaru at his side. On Akamaru's back was a small boy, with the most unruly blonde hair he had ever seen. No doubt it was his son, Isoka. Isoka was no doubt the spitting image of his mother as well.

By the way he moved, and each step he pounded into the ground, Zensho knew that Kiba-kun was half dead. His heart had not healed. His drinking habits had returned. Isoka looked as if he had been half clothed and had not bathed in a few weeks. His hair was mated and tangled. It would take a lot of time to get all of the rats out. Akamaru seemed worried and burdened. The family he had once seen so much joy in, had died so quickly with its one loss.

Kiba-kun did not see Zensho standing there at first. He had his head bowed down to the ground. He was ashamed to show his face to the people who had given him so much. There was nothing honorable left in him. All that was left was the sickly frame of a man who used to be alive and had now died from the inside and was living on the outside. It was pathetic all the way around. He had disgraced himself, and the honorable memory of his wife according to their customs. He would kill himself now, but Akamaru would never let him do such a thing. This was his only choice.

"Chichioya, is that your friend?" said a little girls voice.

Chichioya? Some one was calling their father, and asking if he was their friend. He looked up to see who was asking the question. He stopped walking, frozen and awed. His old friend Zensho, had a child in his arms, and she was calling him father. He had never seen Zensho as a father. In his eyes he had always been a ninja to the core. Strong and ready to fight for his people no matter what. His decadent robes as well told that he was now a high ranking official. When he looked closer, he could see the mark of the Ink Tribe tattooed into his skin on his chest. He had become The Grand Master Calligrapher.

"Ukimii, this is Kiba-kun, and his son Isoka-kun, and his faithful dog, Akamaru," he said, a welcoming smile spread across his face as he Held out one of his hands for Kiba to shake. "It has been a long time Kiba-kun."

"Zensho-kun…sama," he corrected himself, taking his friends hand and weakly shaking it.

"Do not flatter me with such useless titles. You are a good friend of mine, and I shall treat you as such," he said, letting his friends hand go and then turning to lead him through the camp to his own tent. He noticed there were no sounds of footsteps behind him.

"Kiba-kun! Isoka-kun! Akamaru! Chichioya wants you to come! Let's go!" she called, wiggling for her father to put her down.

Zensho took the sign and let her down. She immediately ran right up to Kiba and took his hand, pulling him in the direction of her father. Kiba looked down at the small girl, her kind smile made him smile too, and he let her lead him.

"Let's go Akamaru," he said, as he walked side by side with his friend and his daughter.

It was still a little hard to accept, him having a daughter. She was such a cheery little thing; it was hard not to return her kindness with your own cheerful smile. He could tell she was still very young, no older than his own son, but this girl was very smart. She knew what people's hearts needed. That was what she gave them. She gave their hearts back to them again. It was a rare talent for one so young.

"KIBA-KUN!!!"

"It's Kiba-kun!"

"Well look who it is?!"

The voices of people he knew. He had not heard them for three years. It was refreshing but painful at the same time. Once he had been a strong and proud man, now he had wasted away and was weak and gruff. He wondered how they could bare to look at him now. He was a traitor to their beliefs even though he had sworn to protect them with all his life. He could tell by the looks on their faces they could see what he had become. No one came to greet him; he was in the presence of the Grand Master Calligrapher. The time for old friends to meet would come later.

The camp had changed so much. It seemed much richer now, more prosperous than it had been ever. No doubt it came from Zensho's witty mind and business tactics. That had been his specialty as a ninja, negotiation. He had, on many occasions out witted many other ninja from the other tribes and from it brought forth many alliances for things. There was a joke that if you went with him on a mission you should just sit down at home and wait for him to return with good news.

He was a man who had that kind of mind. The one that always thought of how to make amends and not fight. However, he was also the man that knew how to fight. He had had his share of fights. The various scars on his body from wounds always told that story. Kiba had only had the pleasure of fighting with him once. That night was the last night he had ever been able to control himself. After that, he had become reckless.

Now that shame seemed branded on his skin, and was still glowing red for everyone to see. He began to let go of Ukimii's hand but she held on tighter. She was not giving up it seemed. Kiba did not try to resist. Instead he turned to his wild haired son. He was quite, and didn't seem to be moving a muscle except to breathe. Isoka, he had suffered the most. That was his deepest shame, letting his son suffer. The eyes he had once felt on his body disappeared now. They had stepped through into a clearing. The luxurious tent of the Grand Master Calligrapher was in plain site and quite a site to behold.

It was quite here, and peaceful. Zensho had probably ordered this. To keep his mind still, but to be alert whenever the people needed him incase of a raid. The action was more than to be expected of Zensho. Before the entrance was opened, Zensho turned around and bent down to eye level with Ukimii.

"Ukimii, do me a favor and have Shime-san run a bath for our guests, and help her prepare their room. I will be in my office finishing my poem," he said, calmly letting himself in and disappearing behind several other walls of cloth.

It was tradition to first bathe your guests and to help prepare their room. It was respectful of the guest to accept the bath, and then enjoy a meal with their host. Zensho had other things on his mind besides a poem, Kiba could tell.

"Let's go!" Ukimii exclaimed, pulling Kiba into the tent, Akamaru and Isoka following in his footsteps.

Inside it was warm and smelled of lilac. Lilac flowers were common in this valley so it did not surprise Kiba at all.

"Shime-san! Shime-san!" Ukimmi called, putting a hand to her mouth to amplify the sound of her voice.

"Coming Ukimii-sama! Coming!" replied a flustered voice.

Kiba knew that voice. Immediately his eyes found the floor. His heart stopped beating. He was dead again. First Zensho, now… her.

"What is it Uki..." Shime said, stopping in mid sentence as she looked at the man she had never thought she would see again. "Kiba-kun?!"

Hearing his name pass through her lips his eyes rose to meet her. She had changed. The tiny frame she once had was now slightly thickened with muscle, and her dress was gone, replaced by a pair of pants and tight shirt. Her long brown hair was now short, and her soft face became toughened and worn. Where had she gone? That tiny little sister of his lost love.

"Hello, Shime-san," he whispered roughly.

She wanted to cry out. That's was all she wanted now. After all this, he had come back now. When she could no longer offer him the comfort of being there for him. Her brother in-law and her nephew. She had committed herself to a life of service. There was no way she could go with him now. She could tell by the look in his eyes he was not going to stay.

"Shime-san, Chichioya says to run our guests a bath. He says help prepare a room!" Ukimii said brightly.

Shime tore her eyes away from him and placed them on her young master. She had no choice but to do as he wished; she had given her life to him in return for him to help her become a priestess of the Ink. This was by no means an easy task. The convent itself was hidden deep within the valley, and housed only 12 priests and priestess'. It was a place where the Ink praised their gods, the life god, the death god, and the heaven god. It couldn't be helped then. He would have to heal with the knowledge that she would pray for him everyday.

Dutifully she bowed in respect an d lead them into a large room, dug into the ground and lined with tile was a tub. Just outside a great fire burned, and a huge pot was set on top of it. Water was boiling. At the bottom of the pot was a very heavy and very strong plug that kept the water in until it was time. Shime went out side to check the water, and decided it was okay to let it flow then. Careful not to touch it directly she pulled the chain and the water began to spill into the tub, filling the whole room with a thick steam.

"Give the water a few minutes to cool, then you can go in. I will bring fresh clean clothes and then it will be mine and Ukimii-sama's pleasure to groom you properly for a dinner with Zensho-sama.

As she spoke her words were slow and careful. She made sure not to look into his eyes, as any servant is trained to do. Silently she and Ukimii exited the room and allowed the two to get to their bath. Soon the tensions would break. She could feel it. Zensho-sama was closed away in his study. Ukimii-sama had gone into her room to prepare her toys for her and Isoka to play with. Somehow Ukimii knew she and Isoka would be promptly excused from the dinner. Shime wondered how at her age she knew these things were going on around her. Perhaps it was Ukimae-sama, or maybe she was just gifted.

There where so many questions that could be asked of her. She didn't even understand why. There was a calming effect in her innocence to what she really was. Shime had always been glad that she had not been one of the rare ones who had awful experiences with Ukimii-sama. Some had seen terrible things when they touched her and cringed in fear at the sight of her, and where told to keep silent. Others saw the future and always asked her to tell them more and were forbidden to speak to her ever again. Shime had been in service of Zensho-sama and Ukimii-sama for a while now, and already she had begun to learn that Ukimii-sama was much different from Ukimae-sama.

She always seemed spiritually intoned. If she was not careful to suppress it, it would take her life. Shime left the tent to get the clothes and left Ukimii to her own devices, she wasn't the type of child to get into trouble anyway.

Zensho sat in his office, his head in his hands. It was difficult, the thin line between friendship and tradition. In tradition Kiba-kun had committed a terrible crime, letting his child suffer as he had done. In friendship he knew why, Kiba-kun was dead on the inside, and he would be for a very long time. The loss of a wife, it was more than he could imagine, he did not have one. At his age he could get any woman he wanted. That wasn't what he was after though, and the only woman who he had ever had a fascination with, was dead, and had died back when he was only a teenager. She was what inspired him to become a ninja, though everyone said his talent was wasted as a ninja.

The poem still sat in front of him, unfinished ad still waiting to be. In the back of his mind he knew he would never be able to. This poem would come with the rest of his life. There would be plenty of time then to finish it. Still it seemed that finishing it was out of the question. There would be no point in finishing such a thing then. He laughed at himself for playing with his thoughts the way he did. Maybe his mother had been right when she told him he always over thought things, and that was always why he was left behind.

A sigh of frustration escaped his lips as he thought of the words to say to his friend, and how he would deal with the great dishonor he had brought to himself. How could he decide whether friendship or tradition was better?

"Chichioya…" whispered a tearful little girl.

He looked down to see his daughter in tears and holding something in her arms.

"Ukimii, what's wrong?" All was forgotten then.

If Ukimii needed him then there was no other importance. She would always mean this much to him.

"Chichioya…I feel sad. I don't feel good!" she said, falling into her father's arms as she cried into his shoulder.

He realized the doll in her hands, was the one she had shown him earlier today. The one she called Yume. This doll had become very important to her in such a short time. It was beginning to bother his thoughts. A fresh wave of tears stopped him from asking though, and he picked her up from the floor and stood holding her. Swaying softly from one side to the other as he sang a soft tune to calm her down. As he sang the crying lessened. She began to sing the words to the song.

"See the birds, how softly they fly, cry, cry, crying. Love to the children, love to the children," she sang, some of the words missing syllables and very choppy because of her three year old mouth being unable to pronounce the sounds.

Even if it did sound so broken, she sang so softly, to calm him. So sweetly to make him forget everything Kiba-kun had done wrong, and show him he was trying everything he could to fix it. That was the way of it. How she worked her magic. She felt the sorrow and the pain of others, and using her own methods found a way to ease the pain till it was gone forever. He set her down on the ground and smiled lovingly down on her as he ruffled an ink stained hand through her black hair.

"I'm going to go help Shime-san," she announced as she left the office and ran to Shime who had just returned with the clothes for her guests.

Standing there for a moment he had to wonder why children were so spontaneous. Why the suddenly switched gears as soon as they had been eased of their fears. Zensho quickly found himself wishing to be innocent again. That would be a true blessing if he could shed his worries so easily again. Once again he sat on the pillow before his writing desk staring at the poem. He decided to put it away for now. One less thing to worry about meant one step closer to innocence.

The room had been newly furnished for the guests with the softest bedding pads laid out neatly on the floor; their choice of covers lay before each of the beds. Shime lit the candles and showed Ukimii how to place the belonging of the guests. She knew just where to place his thongs, what covers he liked, and how he liked his bed made, how Akamaru liked his own. However, with Ukimii being a child she let her set up Isoka's bed. She would know better than she how to make a child's bed.

"Shime-san, they are done, I can hear them getting dressed, someone fell over trying to pull on their pants," Ukimii announced, as she looked towards the outside of the room.

Shime smiled and gave Ukimii a brush and comb for Isoka's hair. And she herself picked up a shaving and grooming kit. It was okay to trust her with hair. Ukimii had kept even the oldest of her dolls looking new, even with the difficult task of taming doll's hair, which was twice as hard as human hair.

"Let's go Ukimii-sama. We will make them look good for Zensho-sama. I will trust you to brush the tangles from Isoka-kun's hair, and I will clean Kiba-kun of his face hair," she said as they walked to the room where they sat waiting to be groomed.

Kiba kept his eyes on Shime the whole time as she walked towards him, hoping she would just look him in the eyes. True to the nature of a servant, she did not move her eyes from the ground at all. Not even when she asked him to lean his head back so she could begin shaving him. She could tell though by the way his shoulders dropped he was disheartened that she had neglected his glance.

"Shime-san, where is the tangle grease I use?" Ukimii asked, looking up from her brush which was thoroughly stuck in Isoka's hair now.

"In your room Ukimii-sama. Would you like me to go get it?"

"Please Shime-san," Ukimii said, again turning to struggle with her brush and pull it free from Isoka's hair. She tugged at the brush and found that Isoka was crying. At first he had not made a sound but she heard a small squeal and stopped, immediately going to face him. "Sumimasen! I didn't mean to hurt you Isoka-kun, but you have so many tangles in your hair."

Isoka just looked at her with teary eyes and then looked away as if he were shy and afraid. Ukimii felt ashamed for not bothering to ask if he was hurt and so silently went back to gently and gingerly pulling the hair away from the brush. By the time Shime-san returned with the special tangle grease, she had freed the brush. She thanked Shime-san for the grease and then applied a hefty coating onto Isoka's head and began to spread it around and into his head. It was just like a doll to her, and soon he would have shiny and handsome hair.

"This feels icky at first, but it will make your hair pretty," Ukimii said as she kneaded the grease into his roots where most of the tangles started.

Kiba watched intently out of the corner of his eyes as the little girl worked on his son's head. She was a genuine care giver; she would be a good friend for Isoka. He was even more astounded though when the tangles began to dissipate as she combed through each gigantic tangle one at a time with her comb and then brush it smooth with a brush she held in her mouth as she worked with the comb.

Before he knew it he too was shaved clean and Shime sat waiting for Ukimii to finish with Isoka patiently at the entrance of the room.

"There Isoka-kun, now you have no more tangles!" Ukimii proudly stated as she put the brushes in Shime-sans's hands and stood at her side, obviously happy with her work.

"I will lead you to dinner now," she spoke softly to Kiba-kun and Isoka-kun, and then turned to Ukimii-sama, "Ukimii-sama, you should go wash up and change for dinner, your play clothes have become dirty. Leave them outside of your room and I will come to get them after I have the guests seated at the table."

"Mhmm!" Ukimii nodded in response and ran off to her room to quickly change and wash for dinner.

"This way please," Shime-san said as she left the grooming room, them following behind her in step.

It was considered rude to speak to the guest without the permission of the master unless it was directly involved with getting them to the master. So she did not say a word as they walked. Kiba finally understood this and then realized she must have come into debt somehow is she was now acting as a servant in the house of the grand Master Calligrapher. Still, he had to admit to himself he was sad to see that she had changed so much. He had become so used to seeing her as a bright and chipper young girl, who had the wildest dreams for herself and her future, and now she looked quite, and locked away, like the many secrets of a woman who had lived a long life, she seemed forgotten.

Though he could see piece of her old self still inside of her. In her step and the way she carried herself, she still retained that dignified grace that said she was a woman of the Ink, and would always be that way. That he supposed was something he would never have. Something that was far beyond his reaching and his care.

"Please, be seated," Shime-san requested, lifting away the cloth wall to reveal and elegant yet simple dinner had been prepared in their honor.

He found that Zensho was already waiting with a patient and very calm face. By the way he sat, his back straight and his shoulders relaxed Kiba could tell, he knew what he was going to do. How he was going to handle everything, even if he didn't know what it was. That was the reason Zensho had always been a good leader. Once he knew how he was going to handle a problem, even if he didn't know what it was exactly, that was how he was going to handle it. It was a quality that was prized among leaders, and loved among people.

Kiba sat himself at the right hand side of his host, leaving the left hand open for family, whom he supposed would soon be Zensho's wife. Carefully he instructed Isoka to behave and sit beside him. This however was not a problem because Isoka never seemed to do much other than cry when he needed something, and barely spoke a word as it was.

"Shime-san," Zensho said, looking around the room carefully, "Where is my daughter?"

Shime-san bowed respectfully and left for Ukimii but was stopped suddenly, when young Ukimii came flying through the cloth walls of the tent, wearing her blue kimono and slippers. In her arms was the new doll, Yume. As if she had never been outside she was clean and fresh, just like after it rained and everything smelled clean and new. Ukimii bowed in respect to Shime-san who returned the bow as well, and then with a soft smile entered the dinning room.

Kiba watched as the little girl came into the room, smiling bright and happily walking to her father to kiss his check and bow to him before dinner in order to thank him for providing her with food and then to go to her place at the table, which he though would have been the second seat to the left, but instead she took the first, and he knew that this meant that his daughter, was the top ranking female of the house. He had to wonder then, where the mother was.

"Chichioya! Kiba-kun! Isoka-kun! Let's eat!" she announced, and then began to serve herself her small but sizeable portions for a girl her age.

Zensho was quick to help her though with the larger dishes that she could not pick up herself, and once he had finished serving her he served himself, and then Kiba served himself and Isoka. In tradition, you were not to say a word until the meal was over. So it was completely silent. Words were exchanged with looks and expressions of the face.

So every once in a while Ukimii would look up from her plate and smile at everyone. Zensho would return the smile and then give Kiba and Isoka a soft smile of his own, and Kiba would return the smile, but Isoka would not, as he had no formal Ink training, like most children had at Ukimii's age, and that was another shame upon him.

One score after another, he would soon be so marked up with his own shame that no one would be able to recognize him, as they barely were today. It was not long before he quickly finished his plate and sat quietly waiting for everyone to finish. He felt sick to his stomach now. All the rich food that he had not tasted in three whole years, seemed too worthy of him, and wanted out of his poisoned body.

He held his feeling in though. He would not disgrace her any further. He would be respectful to his host, to his friend who had already given him too much by even allowing him into the camp. This was a promise, a resolution that he made to himself and thus he was able to look up now at Ukimii when she smiled, and return her smile with a bright and wide spread one as well. At the sight of this, Zensho seemed to brighten up as well, and was smiling all through the rest of the meal. It was the best conversation he had had in a long time, and yet not a word had been spoken. He felt at home again.

As the meal came to a close, as if on q Shime-san entered the dinning room and cleared away the food and dishes with quickness and expert detail, making sure to clear away the master's side of the table, and then the guests side. It would seem Shime-san had been well trained, because when he had first known her she didn't even know how to lift a finger unless it was for herself. It was even further proof that she had changed so much over such a short time. Perhaps it hadn't been so short though. It had seemed for a very long time that everyday was an eternity to him, and now there was no reason for her not to feel the same.

He looked up at his friend, Zensho, and how happy he seemed now. His young daughter Ukimii had now retired to his lap and was laughing and playing with him happily. His thoughts turned to his own son who was bent forward, looking past his father to see what the little girl and her father where doing. As soon as he felt his father's eyes on him he turned away from the laughing pair shyly. Juts by the look in his eyes Kiba could tell Isoka was wishing he had that. Tenderly he picked his on up from his seat and sat him so that he was facing him in his lap.

Kiba hugged his son close to him and held him there for a very long time, tears silently streamed down his face. It had been a long time since he had held his son like this, not since he was born. Just by the way he held onto his father, gripping as hard as he could. He could tell his son, was being neglected of his father. For the first time in a long time he could see his son's eyes underneath the mass of thick blonde hair and see that he was very happy here in his father's embrace.

Suddenly he felt little hands, stretching to reach around both him and his son. He found that little Ukimii had decided to join in the loving embrace. He looked up at Zensho and received a permissive nod and then let her into the hug, holding her as if she were his own. Something inside of him told him she was going to be the one who would make sure of what he was planning to ask of Zensho. Not only that, but she also had a lingering power bestowed on her. One that had no name it appeared to him.

"Ukimii," Zensho said softly, and the little child turned in the arms of Kiba to face her father, a look of readiness on her face, "take Isoka-kun to your room and show him your toys. Entertain our guest. I must speak with Kiba-kun for a while."

Ukimii smiled and nodded, turning again to kiss Kiba on the check and then reach a hand out to Isoka whom did not take it until he got an encouraging smile from his father. A look of shock appeared on his face as Ukimii tugged him away into the room, the whole time telling him of all the toys she had just waiting for them to play with and how much fun it would be for her to have a play mate like him.

Kiba laughed a little at the chatter of the three year old girl who was nothing more than a loveable sweet heart. However, the smiles and laughter fell away from his senses as the calculating face of Zensho brought forth the need for seriousness now.

"You have come here Kiba, smelling of the same drink that had led you here to us. Both you and your son looked as if you had not eaten in the three years you were gone, and above all, you looked as if you had a great shame upon your shoulders. A deep sin that had no repentance. I could tell that you had become so wrapped up in your sadness over Onima's death. We all loved your wife Kiba, but she would weep if she could see what you have done to her son, and to yourself," he said, speaking as if he had read Kiba's thoughts from the very beginning which scared Kiba on more than many levels.

The mention of his wife's name brought tears to his eyes. Only he had known that name in his somber thoughts for so long. Every time he said her name though, the image of her dead and frozen body came to his mind, and the blood that stained her clothes, and the shock in her eyes. Immediately he broke down, and rib racking sobs escaped his mouth. The one thing he was supposed to protect and he lost her. He could have put the kunai in his own hands and sliced away at her flesh himself. That was what he saw in his dreams every night, him killing her.

"I-I don't know anymore Zensho. I can't even raise my own son. Not without seeing myself… seeing myself…."

Knowing just how he was going to finish the sentence Zensho held hi hand up in resilience to Kiba's sobs, and his gruesome nightmares.

"You did not kill her, and her death was the will of the Death God. You must be content now in the knowledge that she is in the safe hands of the Heaven God. In return for her death the Life God spared your son. Now look what you do? You spoil these blessing by poisoning your own mind, and leaving your son to the care of your dear friend Akamaru who is by no means a suitable father for the boy. Why have you returned here Kiba? What solutions have you come to now to save yourself, and above all your son, Onima's son?" Zensho said, not raising his voice above a whisper, but still retaining the full effect and power of his well chosen words.

Kiba looked up at his friend, and heard the piercing words of his mind. They shot straight through his heart, and killed his pain, and brought forth his pride, and his tears became less fluent and condemned, and more somber but resolute.

"I came," he replied, striking up as much courage as he could now, "to ask for your help. My son, I cannot raise him. Like you said I have poisoned my own mind, and now I must cleanse myself. To do that though will require much time from him. I will need to train for endless hours, and work even more missions. I will have to discipline myself. All of this I can do, but I cannot raise my son. Not without Onima.

"She was the woman I planned to spend my life with, watch our grandchildren come to life with. Now she is gone at the hands of the Thread. I am not meant to raise him alone. He needs a good father, a strong one, who is capable of teaching him to be a proper man, and will not forget to teach him, that he is Ink, and will always be Ink. He needs a family to raise him. I will ask you my friend, to take my son, and raise him for me. Teach him to be a man of the Ink and then, one day, maybe I will return to see my son, and look at what he has become."

Zensho noticed that as Kiba spoke his determination in his words grew stronger, he stopped crying, and he started to tighten his fists. A soft smile spread across his lips. He had not expected Kiba to be so strong with his decision. He knew that even if he told him no, he would leave Isoka here. It was what was best for Isoka and him as well. He looked at his friend, whom had first walked into the village earlier with a sad and painful wound on his heart, and now seemed healed and strong enough to move forward again.

"I will take your son my friend. And I will raise him as my own along side my daughter. But I will always let him know that I am not his father. That I am his father's friend, who was asked to raise him well, so that one day his father could. Do you understand?" he explained, reaching out for a tea cup that had been slowly cooling and was now warm enough to drink without scalding his tongue and lips.

"I understand. I know it well. However, one question has been plaguing my mind for quite a while," he said, taking his own cup and slowly sipping at it, "Where is Ukimii's mother?" he asked, setting the cup down.

Zensho laughed in his throat at the question he had been expecting all night. He knew sooner or later, Kiba's brashness would shine through and ask the personal question he had actually hoped would be asked.

"Ukimii's mother, I don't know, nor her father for that matter. She was given to me by Ukimae; Ukimii is her reincarnation, predicted to return 500 years after her death, which was three years ago. Ukimae told me to raise her as my own, because she would be her own person, her own mind, just with Ukimae's spirit. So she is, Ukimae's opposite in almost everyway," he answered, keeping his eyes down on his eyes, afraid to look up and laugh at Kiba, who had spit out his tea in shock and was now embarrassingly cleaning his face of the sprayed liquid.

"She is Ukimae!" he shouted loudly, his eyes opened wide in surprise.

All he gained in response though was a simple nod, and watched as his friend calmly sipped at his tea. Everything that was once mysterious about the girl now seemed as clear as a bell. So she was the savior. The second Guardian of the Peoples Hopes. However something told him this was the intervention of the Life God. His son would be somewhat of a brother to a legendary hero, and that in itself was enough to put pride in any man's mind for his son.

"Hm, I don't know why it shocks me. You of all people Zensho, with the reincarnation of Ukimae-sama. So, is she going to be a ninja?" Kiba asked, regaining some of his dignity and wiping his mouth and face with a napkin that Shime-san had just laid at his side.

Zensho at first did not answer. He didn't want to. No father wanted to admit that he wanted to put his daughter into that dangerous life style. No father wanted his child, boy or girl, to do that. Kiba could tell though, by the way he held himself, his shoulders drooping slightly in pain as he imagined the life his daughter would have in store for her.

"Yes, she will be a ninja," Zensho admitted, putting his tea down and then motioning for Shime-san to pour some more tea.

"Shime-san, my son, would you please go check on him for me?" Kiba asked, keeping his eyes on her, hoping she would look up.

However she only nodded her reply and left the room to go look and see what the two children were up to. It had been nearly an hour since they had been excused, by now they should have been tired and ready for bed. Silently she took her steps, knowing that if Ukimii-sama heard her she would stop whatever game they were playing to ask her what she was up to. However when she looked into the room, all she saw was a burning light and a clean floor.

Out of fear and suspicion she busted into the room, and looked all about, and was about to scream for help because Ukimii-sama was gone and so was Isoka-sama, only too look down at Ukimii-sama's bed and see that both she and Isoka-sama had fallen asleep and crawled into bed together. They lay facing each other holding hands between their faces. Isoka-sama looked content and at peace, and he was truly asleep. Like he had not rested for a very long time. Ukimii-sama had a smile spread across her face, content in her dreams as if she had never been so before.

Shime-san knew very well, just by the way the two lay, they were never going to let go of each other. Their fates had been pulled together for a long time now, more than 500 years. Serving her cousin she had come to know this, the vow of their great ancestor, and his promise. So Isoka-sama would be the one to fulfill the vow. She wondered though, if Ukimii-sama would let that bond grow beyond good friends, as Ukimae-sama had never done. These two children that held the fate of a nation in their hands seemed as if they had already grown up in her eyes.

Now she realized how sad a fate it was. How people would only see them as prophecies waiting to be fulfilled. As weapons, and as tools. For the rest of their lives none but a few would come to know them beyond their ancestors, and their spirits. And every time it would become worse and worse until eventually the birth of Ukimae-sama and a descendant of Koriko would become nothing more than an expectation instead of a genuine need and part of the people. It would become a process.

A tear formed and fell down her face. She would not let that happen. She would become a priestess dedicated to the gods, and the lives of these two children. And in doing so, she would train an acolyte to do the same, and protect the virtue of these lives. Of these two children who now slept in a bed just a few feet away from her. Slowly she lowered herself so that she was kneeling on the ground, and she prayed to each of the gods, that they would give her this power, to maintain and ensure that happiness of their lives for as long as she lived. She could only hope as she turned and left the two sleeping children that the gods would grant her a blessing, and give her prayers being.

Dutifully she returned to the dinning room where the two men sat, discussing the future of Ukimii-sama. In a way it was a bit of a sad thing to speak of. She was such a gentle child after all. The harsh life she was being committed to was not fit for her at all. Kiba-sama noticed her and nodded to her, a sign that she could speak to him about the status of his son. She bowed in respect and began her report.

"Isoka-sama and Ukimii-sama have fallen asleep in Ukimii-sama's bed. I made sure they were content and had enough blankets to share," she said, raising from her bow and leaving the room with the approving nod of Kiba-sama.

Her duties for the night where over and now she could be excused to bed. That was all she wanted for now. Was to sleep and be contented with that sleep. So much had happened today, she could hardly be prepared for what might come tomorrow.


End file.
